


In the Grip of the Seasons

by CountessofPudding



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Still thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-21 03:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17035562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessofPudding/pseuds/CountessofPudding
Summary: It is the 300th year after Aegon’s conquest. House Targaryen continues to rule supreme, aided by the able rule of King Rhaegar I and the return of the Targaryen dragons.Visenya Targaryen, daughter of the king and his second wife, Lyanna, plans a dangerous bid for her happiness. This sparks off a tragic turn of events not unlike the ones that took place 17 years before.Aegon Targaryen trains for kingship, a position he is enormously ill-suited for, though none would dare say it to his face.Rhaenys wants to bury her head in the sands of Dorne, away from the viper’s nest that is King’s Landing.Meanwhile, Jaehaerys buries his head in the snow.





	1. PROLOGUE: Chapter One (282 AC): Rhaegar I

PROLOGUE

Introduction by Grand Maester Leonnor:

One fair morning late in the year 282 AD, the realm woke up to both celebration and tragedy, the birth of a prince and the death of a princess. Princess Elia of Dorne, while frail of body, was steadfast in spirit and much beloved of the smallfolk of King’s Landing. She gave birth to a healthy heir for her husband and prince but did not survive long after it. 

Some at that time said that the prince cut her open with his own sword, as he was very much in love with his future queen, then known as Lady Lyanna of House Stark. However, these are likely vile rumours with little basis in fact.

Nonetheless, it is a known fact that Princess Elia passed from this veil of tears that day, her life ebbing away with her blood. She left behind her daughter, Princess Rhaenys, who was but two years of age as well as her newborn son, Prince Aegon.  
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Aegon was only three hours old when he became motherless. He wailed when she took her final breath. Rhaenys had slept through her mother’s death. It was, in some ways, a mercy. She would wake to the sound of her baby brother’s cries and a mother who had left for Dorne and would be coming back soon.

What Rhaegar felt didn’t quite have a name to it. He knew he had accomplished his greatest task, to bring the promised prince into the world. That was what he had lived for, yet he felt an emotional void where there should have been a sense of triumph. 

Perhaps he was simply crippled with sorrow for a lost companion. Or perhaps he was ashamed for his thoughtlessness at foisting a babe on a body unable to bear its burden. 

It was with this state of mind that Rhaegar Targaryen, to the horror of all who knew him, drank himself to a drunken stupor that night. .  
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Rhaegar doesn’t know how long he slept that night. He only knew that his head pounded viciously in the morning when his mother came into the room and placed a hand on his shoulder.

When he finally recovered enough to sit up in his bed, he found Rhaella sitting on the edge of his bed. 

Rhaegar didn’t want to look into her eyes. He had indulged himself that night and abandoned his young children to face a dead mother. Rhaella broke the silence first.

“Rhaegar, it wasn’t your fault-”

“How can it not be? I put a babe in her and it killed her. Whose fault can it be if not mine?”

“Even if you hadn’t wanted the babe, Elia would have wanted it herself,” Rhaella continued. Her soft and understanding voice almost brought Rhaegar to tears, the way Elia’s death hadn’t. 

“I didn’t know Elia as well as I should have, but I know that she was ever mindful of her duty. "‘Women like Elia and I have a duty to bear children, regardless of its cost. Elia knew it when she married you and would never have shied away from it.” 

Rhaella moved to clasp Rhaegar’s hands in hers. At that moment, Rhaegar realised that his hands had grown much larger than his mother’s. Compared to his, his mother’s hands seemed terribly small and delicate; his hands could cover hers completely. 

How much time had passed since they last held each other like this? In that time, Rhaegar had grown into manhood and his mother had grown much older. How much time did he waste distancing himself from his mother? How much time did he have to make up for his absence?

“Men go to war and shed their blood for the lives of their family. Mothers do the same, only on a birthing bed instead of a battlefield. Elia fought her battle and brought her son to life. It is a valiant death no less than one in battle.”

There was a comfortable silence after Rhaella finished. They continued holding each other. After some time, Rhaegar began to speak.

“Mother...I have been a most undutiful son to you,” Rhaegar said. It was true. While he had been close to his mother in his boyhood, they had drifted apart as Aerys’s madness worsened. “I am afraid I have let you down.”

Years ago, Rhaella herself had moved his bedchamber far away from hers, which his father often visited. She intended to protect him from the horrors that she was dealt on so many nights. As a result, only members of the Kingsguard heard her cries and only her maids knew the damage that Aerys did to her body. Rhaegar had learnt to turn a blind eye to it. 

“Rhaegar, you were and still are a perfect son," Rhaella said, without any trace of deception. "Since I learnt about your existence all those years before, you have brought me endless joy. I couldn’t have lived all these painful years without you. Never say that you have let me down, because you haven’t.”  
And so, Rhaegar put most of his demons to rest that day.  
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“Mama! I want mama!”, Rhaenys cried out as she bawled and kicked in Oberyn’s arms. To his credit, Prince Oberyn held on firmly to her as she reached both of her arms out towards the coffin. The prince stroked her back gently and murmured softly into her ear. Rhaegar thought he saw tear streaks on the prince’s cheeks but he couldn’t be sure. 

If Rhaegar could weep, now was the chance. He didn’t. He simply watched, fists clenched, as his wife was disappeared beneath the earth, returned forever to the land of her birth.


	2. Chapter Two (Year 293 AC): Visenya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at House Targaryen eleven years later. Enjoy!

Introduction by Grand Maester Leonnor:

The ascension of King Rhaegar I in 284 AC was accompanied by the return of the Targaryen dragons. Two were hatched that year, Prince Aegon’s Laeraxes and Princess Daenerys’ Talaevor. Another dragon, Windsong, was soon hatched in the cradle of King Rhaegar’s newborn son, Prince Jaehaerys. These events ushered in a new era of Targaryen rule, one that would quickly reverse the family’s decline over the past century.

King Rhaegar’s able rule played no small part in this reversal, but it must be said that the dragons were certainly the main force behind this change. They lent House Targaryen the strength and legitimacy that it had lacked since the reign of King Aegon the Dragonbane, during which the last dragon had died.

Previously errant houses quickly swore fealty to the crown in the following years. The threat of dragonflame made House Targaryen almost as feared and revered as they were during the reign of King Viserys I, a period that is considered by many to have been the height of Targaryen power.

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On her ninth nameday, Visenya wished for a dragon. That was all she ever wanted in the world.  
Aegon, Jae and Dany all rode their own splendid beasts. On their part, they hadn’t done much, the dragons had hatched in their cradles when they were babes. By the time each of them turned eight, their dragons were more than large enough to ride. Aegon had taken to the skies first on Laeraxes first, since he was the oldest. He was followed by Dany on Talaevor, then by Visenya’s older twin Jaehaerys on Windsong.

Meanwhile, all Visenya could do was watch on the ground below as her older brothers and her aunt raced through the skies, whooping and shrieking with joy. Aegon had promised that he would take her on Laeraxes once it was large enough to carry two riders. Still, it was not the same as having a dragon of one’s own.

She had arrived too late into the world. Perhaps if she was the older twin, Windsong would be hers and Jaehaerys would be the one watching from the ground. However, it was a fact that Jae had arrived first.

Their mother, Lyanna, had only labored for a few hours when Jaehaerys tumbled out, with grey eyes and brown locks just like hers. Their father, Rhaegar, had immediately presented him with his third and last dragon egg, which was cream coloured with golden swirls. Visenya was a surprise. The midwives had been cooing and gushing over the newborn prince when Lyanna cried out and the crown of another head parted her a second time; this time, it was silver. Visenya’s birth was prolonged and treacherous, both for herself and her mother.

According to Grand Maester Orwin, her mother had survived Jae’s birth with little more than a few grunts. With her however, Lyanna had screamed loud enough to wake all the inhabitants of the castle. It was little surprise that Visenya, once a troublesome babe, grew up to be an even more exasperating child.

She had an egg now, a beautiful thing covered with silver swirls that glimmered when she turned it in her hands. The scales were a cerulean blue that looked violet under the sunlight. Visenya had taken to sleeping with it on her pillow and praying in the morning for it to hatch.

Her Septas were pleased at her newfound piety, but not so pleased that Visenya was also visiting the palace Godswood in the evening, just in case. Aegon had once japed that she should start praying to the Drowned God and Lord of Light as well to pass the time between her prayers.

Visenya was nine years old, and she was bored. Without a dragon to mount, there was little else to do in the castle. Many ladies passed their hours with embroidery but Visenya was dreadful at it and did it as little as she could. Aegon and Jae had their swordfighting lessons to pass their afternoons. Plus, her little brother Gaemon had his Septas and wetnurses cooing over him and resented Visenya’s intrusion.

As a princess of the realm, it had been made clear to her, in ways both subtle and overt, that she was expected to do more than simply exist, biding her time and minding her manners until a match was chosen for her. She knew that she was privileged and fortunate beyond the imaginations of many other girls her age, but she also knew that her life’s purpose was simply to seal an alliance for the Targaryen dynasty and bear children with Targaryen blood. Gone were the days when Targaryen women could be just as influential as their male kin, if not more. To some, her life was a dream, but Visenya felt a relentless urge to escape from this life that she led.

Thus, Visenya took to raiding Maester Orwin’s library, devouring book after book. She learnt about lands far away from Westeros, the great cities of Essos, the Summer Isles, the Dothraki Sea and even lands further east. If she had a dragon, she would have flown there immediately, to see their wonders with her own eyes. She would swoop into and out of the clouds, inspiring both awe and fear in those that glimpsed her. Alas, she didn’t and all she could do was dream.

Visenya leaned forward in her chair and dragged the heavy tome towards her. She had scarcely been able to carry it out of the library and just the simple effort of pulling it closer required the use of both hands. The book was another volume of Grand Maester Gwynald’s dreary Histories of the Nine Free Cities of Essos, and the man seemed to be in no great hurry to finish his task. Visenya hardly noticed when her twin walked into the room. A foul stench hit her nose.

“Gods be good, Jae. You reek!” Visenya cried, slamming the book shut. Jae was covered in dirt and perspiration, amongst other unrecognisable substances. “Have you been rolling around in the black cells?”

“No, I was in the training yard. I won.” Jaehaerys said, grinning.

“Against Aegon?” Visenya asked. Jae nodded, his smile growing wider.

“I let him. It was a farewell gift to leave him with good memories while he is freezing in Winterfell,” Aegon said as he walked in, carrying an equally foul stench. He lifted an arm and sauntered close to Visenya. She wrinkled her nose and swatted his hand away.

“No, you didn’t. I beat you fair and square,” Jae insisted. He turned to Visenya. “He was practically begging me to let him get up. How do you think he got those stains on his breeches?”

“It wouldn’t have been convincing otherwise,” Aegon shot back.

“Jae, when are you leaving tomorrow?” Visenya asked. She had seen the servants carrying crates down to the wheelhouse but it was still difficult to accept that her twin would leave her.

“I will be gone on the morrow. The trip to Winterfell takes a few days by dragonback but I have to wait for the servants and the baggage. Father said that I have to set off early before the winter storms set in”

“Do you really have to go?” Visenya said, barely able to hide her dismay. “It is so terribly cold in the North.”

“I have to do as Father commands,” Jae shrugged. “Besides, Winterfell is built over hot springs. I won’t freeze to death, that’s for certain.”

Visenya’s misery must have still been palpable, for Jae slipped his arm around her. It wasn’t a clever thing to do; Visenya had a few inches over her twin and his arm could barely stay on her shoulders without him standing on his heels. Besides, it made him look terribly short.

“I will miss you,” Visenya said, with far more emotion than she planned to let on. There was a pause.

“Hey, what has gotten into you?” Aegon asked, half-grinning and half-grimacing. “Are you sick?”

How many times had Visenya said that to her ladies and them to each other? It had always seemed such a normal thing. Oh Gods, I missed you. I know, I missed you too. They missed each other whenever one left to visit a cousin in the Crownlands. They missed each other when they saw little of each other during busy weeks.

Somehow, it wasn’t normal amongst boys to miss each other, even if they were to be parted for years and years.

“Yes, you act as if we will never meet again,” Jae said airily. “Soon, some lord will host a tourney and we will see each other again.”

“Just...remember to write us, alright?”

“I will,” Jae said. Then, he wrapped her in a tight hug. “I will miss you too,” He said softly.

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Jae had left that morning. Visenya had woken to the flutter of dragon wings. When she ran to the window, she saw Windsong already in the air, its cream and gold scales gleaming in the rising sun. Her brother was mounted on its back, she could glimpse him strapped to his saddle, his arms gripping the reins firmly. Visenya felt her throat tightening and swallowed.

It was humiliating, she had known that Jae would be leaving her for many moons and had said her goodbyes yesterday. Yet she could not fight that sense of loss and emptiness that filled her. She and her brother were once inseparable as babes and remained close as children. She had never gone a day without seeing him. However, they had been separated for good and there was little she could do but live without him.

As Visenya lay down on her sheets that night, she felt a strange sense of unease, as if something wonderful...or terrible would happen to her. Like she had done so many nights before, she turned and gazed at her egg, admiring the way its swirls glimmered in the dim firelight. The egg had long turned to stone and had been buried in the volcanic soils of Dragonstone more than a century. Yet it felt warm in Visenya’s hands, as if heated from the inside.

She cupped it in her palms and pulled it close to her chest. Even if she was simply deluding herself, she wanted to believe that the creature within the egg was stirring to life, and that it heard her prayers and felt her need for it.

The egg was stone, but stone could be awoken. It had happened for her aunt and brothers, why wouldn’t it happen for Visenya? She was no less of a Targaryen then they were, in both blood and appearance.

The egg would hatch, she told herself as she went to sleep that night. Her prayers would be answered.

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The crack was the first thing she heard. It is a dream, she tried to tell herself. Soon, she would wake up and feel only crushing disappointment. Then, the egg began to squirm in her arms and grow in size, pushing against her fingers. Visenya opened her eyes and nearly fell off her bed. She blinked slowly and turned her gaze on the creature that had emerged from her eye. The creature was a small hatchling, its head was barely larger than an egg. Its bones were thin and fine and almost seemed brittle.  
Visenya let out a gasp, followed by a cry. Shushing gently, she reached her hand towards it. She needed to touch it, to feel it and know that it was real. The dragon reared its head back a little, before it reached its head out again. Its wings were still heavy and ungainly and it crawled slowly towards her.

Visenya stroked its slender neck gingerly at first, then more firmly. Its wings had the same colour as the egg, a pale cerulean blue mixed with violet. Its scales were silver but its claws were much darker, almost black. It was perfect, and it was hers and hers alone. The hatchling let out a few squeaks of contentment, before it rubbed its head against her wrist.

Visenya placed her palms at its feet and it climbed onto her hands. Her ancestors had placed dragon hatchlings on their shoulders in their portraits. There was no better symbol of power. Carefully, she hoisted the hatchling onto her right shoulder. It was heavier that she had expected but she squared her shoulders and straightened her back. When she threw open her bedroom door, she heard many gasps from the servants.

“Your Grace, I will inform the king immediately,” a maid said, dropping her linens and running down the hallway.

Visenya turned towards Ser Barristan, who had been standing by her door. 

“Good morning, Ser Barristan,” Visenya said, beaming. “How do you like my new friend?”

“Good morning, princess,” the knight replied. “It is a beautiful creature, that’s for certain. I daresay it will grow to be an even more magnificent beast. Does your friend have a name?”

Visenya already knew what she would name her dragon. “Mahaerya,” she answered, relishing how the Valyrian sounds rolled off her tongue. “After the Valyrian Goddess of Hope”

**Author's Note:**

> My first work. I will try to update as frequently as possible though I am a terribly slow writer.


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